


body and mind a prison

by Iolaire02



Category: Locke & Key (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, I'm Sorry, POV Second Person, a distinct lack of grammatically correct sentences, a failed attempt at angst, a lot of guesswork, abuse of the words prison and imprisonment and special, but also not because we don't really know what happens to sam do we?, given the lack of named names, ie: a crap ton of run-ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolaire02/pseuds/Iolaire02
Summary: All Sam Lesser needs to be free from his prison is to feel special.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	body and mind a prison

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in about fourteen minutes and didn't bother to edit or elaborate; as a result it is super short. I also have only the bare minimum knowledge about this show, so there're probably inaccuracies alongside grammatical errors. This kind of just wrote itself, so... yeah. 
> 
> The title was inspired by the quote "Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison..." by Ann Brashares. And then I bastardized it.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy.

You grow up with a father and a sister.

You grow up with a father who beats on you, who yells and screams at you to fight back, to raise your left arm and attack with your right, who yells and screams at you when you do. You grow up with a father who controls when and what you eat, and when and what you drink, and doesn’t give a damn if you’re hungry or thirsty, or if you’re bruised and hurting, or if you’re going out of your mind with loneliness. 

You grow up under the watchful eyes of a man who moves abruptly and violently, who holds the keys to your jail cell, who doesn’t much care what other people think, so long as they hate you as much as he does, so long as he can fool them into thinking he’s a kind man, a loving father.

You can’t even begin to say how far this is from the truth.

(It’s no further from it than it would be to say you’re okay.)

You grow up with a sister who’s defenseless, who expects you to defend her, and you want to yell and scream to the world that you can’t even defend yourself because you’re hurting, you’re being hurt, okay, you’re made of hurt and betrayal and shredded trust and secrets and lies, and don't they know: hurt people hurt people.

(You raise the gun in your hand, cock it, aim it, fire. You press a key against metal bars, against prison walls. You walk away as a man burns.)

You grow up in a prison, your mind is a prison, she is in a prison, your words, his words, their words build you a new prison, you are in a prison, and part of you knows it’s where you belong.

(He’s imprisoning you, so you deal with him. You end up in prison. You escape. You imprison them for her because she’s imprisoned you, and it’s all just going around in a circle - no matter which way you go, the end game is still prison.)

You escape.

(You’re special.)

You make it to your destination, you trap them, you get secrets and lies and keys for her.

(A gift to the only person who ever thought you were special.)

He’s trying to talk you down, trying to explain himself, and all you can think is that you’re special. 

(You’re special.)

She said so, and she helped you, told you the truth, and so you’re helping her, because she sees you, sees how special you are, she’s told you before, she’ll tell you again that you’re special.

Right?

You need to know, need her to tell you how special you are, because you did this for her, you helped her.

She smiles, and it’s soft and sharp and cruel, and she tells you there’s nothing special about you, and she does it with a knife to your stomach. 

(She watches as you sag, lets go and turns her back because you’re not special - she told you you were, though - or was that just another lie?)

She walks away and you’re alone in your self-made prison of desperation and need, and you want _out_.

(And there’s a door, unlocked, and you open it, step through, and you’re free. It’s wonderful, for a moment, but you turn your back to the forest and the night sky, try to reach the door before it’s too late. You’re too late. Your heart stops beating as you beg and plead, and you realize… you don’t want to be free of your prison.)


End file.
